A Jewish Mother’s Wisdom

The legacy of Chana Berkovits, Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovits’ mother.

Atop the Mount of Olives, late on a summer afternoon, a Jewish mother was laid to rest.

It was Friday, and sunset, heralding the arrival of the Shabbat Queen, was imminent. But that couldn't deter the hundred or so participants from paying tribute to a woman who, through a life of quiet nobility, faith and wisdom, had profoundly influenced – even transformed - the lives of untold thousands, the overwhelming majority of whom would never have the privilege of meeting her.

“The typical Jewish mother” is often the butt of cynical jokes. But Mrs. Chana Berkovits personified the authentic Jewish mother in all her glory: Wisdom, passion, fortitude, kindness, guidance, and above all, a deep, unshakable faith in the Creator of the universe. A faith that accompanied her through her months in Auschwitz - where her own mother and three of her four siblings perished – and emerged intact, together with her optimism, zest for life, and love of God.

Her faith emerged from Auschwitz intact, together with her optimism, zest for life, and love of God.

King Solomon may have been the wisest of all men, but even his wisdom was shaped by a powerful force in his life – his mother (Proverbs 31:10). And it was King Solomon who would go on to exhort each Jew, “Listen, my son, to the Torah of your mother…” (Proverbs, 1:8).

Rabbi Yitzchak Berkovits, only son of Chana and Aryeh Leib Berkovits, is a well-known and beloved leader in the world of Jewish education and outreach. Rabbi Berkovits taught and ordained hundreds of students in Aish HaTorah over a period of sixteen years, after which he established an independent institution that trains rabbis and other Torah educators who go on to serve in various capacities around the world. Sitting in his modest apartment in the Jerusalem neighborhood of Sanhedria Hamurchevet, where he leads the English-speaking community, Rabbi Berkovits, alongside his father, reflected upon his mother’s life and legacy – the Torah of his mother.

For Rabbi Berkovits’ legion of students, whose very lives have been reshaped by his teachings, the legacy is uncannily familiar.

“She opens her mouth with wisdom…” (Proverbs 31:26)

For Mrs. Chana Berkovits, being a Jew meant using one’s brain. “Why do people do things that don’t make sense?” she would wonder. Judaism, for her, was not about blind faith, about clinging to ancient tradition for tradition’s sake. It meant, instead, absorbing Divine wisdom, to the point that one’s actions would then express that wisdom.

She believed in God because it made so much sense, as much sense as anything could ever make.

Finding herself working as a book-keeper under a Chinese Protestant minister, she got herself a copy of the New Testament, pored over it and then debated her boss – who eventually gave up and admitted he was no match for her relentless scrutiny.

There was no formal Jewish education for girls in Mrs. Berkovits’ native Czechoslovakia, but the quest for knowledge and understanding of truth was built into her very being. After a long day at her full-time job, followed by hours of cooking and cleaning at home, she would sit down late at night with her beloved books - classics of Jewish thought and belief. Her favorite was the eleventh-century classic on faith, love and reverence of God, Duties of the Heart, read in English translation (at that point she did not yet know Hebrew, although she was fluent in several European languages). Even Maimonides’ Guide To the Perplexed, a work challenging enough for the most accomplished of scholars, was not beyond her purview; her son remembers being taught seminal passages from that work at a young age.

To her mind, the highest form of Divine service a Jew could engage in was the study of Torah, imbibing and integrating the Divine wisdom. Rabbi Berkovits remembers, as a teenager, when his mother insisted on polishing his shoes. “You study Torah!” she explained – and this was reason enough for her to show her own son this honor.

Mitzvot, the commandments, were for her not mere ancient traditions but expressions of spiritual truths. “Do you realize what you’re doing?” she asked her pre-bar-mitzvah son as he practiced winding the Tefillin straps around his arm and head. “You’re binding yourself to the Name of God!”

“With strength she girds her loins, and invigorates her arms…”

Mrs. Berkowitz was endowed with an ironclad sense of confidence, afraid of no one and nothing. Her confidence had nothing whatsoever to do with arrogance. It was a confidence born of her crystal-clear perception of God as an ever-present reality in her life, just as real – even more real – as anything else. She knew what was right, knew that God would see her through doing the right thing, and had no qualms about it, whatsoever.

“Growing up,” says Rabbi Berkowitz, “God was just a part of the family. She would talk about Him incessantly; His presence was tangible.”

In occupied Czechoslovakia a curfew was imposed. Young Chana’s brothers ignored it, leaving the house to study Torah. One night, one brother didn’t come home. He had been taken by the S.S.

The next morning, 19-year-old Chana made her way to S.S. headquarters. No one knows what she said, but she somehow convinced the Nazi officials to free her younger brother.

“Were you afraid?” she later asked him.

“Not in the least,” he replied. “I knew you would come for me.”

Throughout her 90 years, she conducted herself with a sense of dignity, even nobility. Nothing could ruffle her; she was always calm, even during an emergency. Even her passing was marked by a calmness which, the doctor present noted, was rare.

“False is vanity and vapid is beauty…”

It was always eminently clear in Mrs. Berkovits’ household that the material things in life were but a means to an end. This is not to say that the physical side of things was neglected. To the contrary: the quintessential Hungarian balabusta (homemaker), her meals were always elaborate, her home always spotless. But her every action bespoke a preoccupation with matters infinitely more meaningful than renovating the house or adopting the latest fashions, things acquaintances and neighbors devoted lots of time and thought to. “We always knew our family was different,” reminisces Rabbi Berkovits.

“Her husband’s heart relies upon her…”

Mr. Aryeh Leib Berkovits (then Tzimetbaum) was the youngest of seven children. He somehow managed to escape the Nazi inferno and spent the war years in the mountains of Romania, wearing the same change of clothing for years and scrounging for food. Auschwitz claimed the lives of his parents and siblings, along with their spouses and children. After the war, he remembers, he was in a state of despair and couldn’t imagine how he would go on with life. He met the woman who would become his wife at the home of a mutual relative. Young Chana approached him and said, “You are an orphan and have no one to take care of you. Let us get married and I will care for you,” which she did for decades until, because of her infirmity, the tables turned and her husband devotedly cared for her for the last years of her life.

“She envisions a field and buys it…”

For Mrs. Chana Berkovits, the only real home for a Jew was the land of Israel. Love of Israel was ingrained in her, and her children grew up with the knowledge that their sojourn in the United States was just that – a sojourn.

She returned home and “informed” her husband that they would be moving to Israel.

In 1975, just as the Israeli economy was taking a downward turn and many immigrants were leaving the country, she paid a visit to the land of Israel. On the last night of her trip, she signed on an apartment. Then she returned home and “informed” her husband that they would be moving to Israel…

“Her children arise and praise her…”

Rabbi Berkovits, who has spent time with some of the finest Jewish minds, the most saintly of Jewish leaders and scholars of the present as well as the previous generations, remarked: “I have never met anyone like her.”

“My mother taught me everything I know,” asserts Rabbi Berkovits. And indeed, her timeless lessons have been passed on to the hundreds, if not thousands, of her son’s disciples, who continue to pass those lessons on to their own students and families. And in her own family, her legacy lives on through her children, grandchildren and now great-grandchildren.

About the Author

Visitor Comments: 9

(9)
harold,
August 17, 2012 2:52 PM

A great loss

for a great Aiyshet Chail
Rabbi Berkovits is not just a key Rabbi, he is a leading authority who can love the Hashem, Torah, The Jewish People and the Land without limits
Very other "so called" leaders achieve that

(8)
Reuven Frank,
August 14, 2012 2:55 PM

what an article

I ‘hate’ articles like this one.
They always make me cry, and
what's the /Koontz/(point) of
making an old man cry?
I was at the memorial 10th Yahrtzeit evening for R. Bulman ztz"l at which R. Berkovitz was supposed to speak. He obviously, could not, having just become an /Ovel/(mourner).
I have heard (perhaps in the name of R. Berkovitz), that mourning, and words of comfort, may be passed on during the entire year.
As such, I would just like to say that
I know with 100% certainly, that after my own 120 years
that I will not even be able to SEE the Rebbitzen's /Makom/(place) in Gan Eden because of the intensity of Heavenly Radiance emanating therefrom.
May the Omnipresent One comfort you among all the other mourners (for the restoration) of Zion and Jerusalem,
and may you never have worry (or mourning) added to this one forevermore.

(7)
David Offor,
August 13, 2012 10:39 PM

A real mother to behold.

Thank you so much for sharing with us such a wonderful story. It is very educative.

(6)
chaiah Schwab,
August 13, 2012 5:37 PM

Thank you

Thank you for inspiration we so sorely need in our times.
I wish we knew what Mrs. Berkovits said to the Nazi's, yimach shmam (may their memories be erased), that made them let her son go free. Or how she said it...

(5)
Susana,
August 13, 2012 2:15 AM

Thank you for the inspiration

As a wife and mother I fall so short......Thank you for sharing this story of a shining example...

(4)
sofia Bain,
August 13, 2012 1:32 AM

A truly remarkable woman - a great Lady

Thank you for sharing this great story of Chana Berkovits and her values. She lived through horrors yet emerged stroger, better, and kinder, then those that were there to destroy her.
Thank you for this story.

(3)
Miriam,
August 13, 2012 1:21 AM

Wow.

Thank you for sharing.

(2)
chaviva katz,
August 12, 2012 4:07 PM

inspiring

May i be as lucky to know such a person... and thankfully i am. My mother...

(1)
Anonymous,
August 12, 2012 2:53 PM

Incredible

Thank you so much for sharing this. This is a beautiful account of an incredible woman who clearly was the REAL thing -- living with the Almighty. Very inspiring. This makes me proud to be a Jew.

I just got married and have an important question: Can we eat rice on Passover? My wife grew up eating it, and I did not. Is this just a matter of family tradition?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

The Torah instructs a Jew not to eat (or even possess) chametz all seven days of Passover (Exodus 13:3). "Chametz" is defined as any of the five grains (wheat, spelt, barley, oats, and rye) that came into contact with water for more than 18 minutes. Chametz is a serious Torah prohibition, and for that reason we take extra protective measures on Passover to prevent any mistakes.

Hence the category of food called "kitniyot" (sometimes referred to generically as "legumes"). This includes rice, corn, soy beans, string beans, peas, lentils, peanuts, mustard, sesame seeds and poppy seeds. Even though kitniyot cannot technically become chametz, Ashkenazi Jews do not eat them on Passover. Why?

Products of kitniyot often appear like chametz products. For example, it can be hard to distinguish between rice flour (kitniyot) and wheat flour (chametz). Also, chametz grains may become inadvertently mixed together with kitniyot. Therefore, to prevent confusion, all kitniyot were prohibited.

In Jewish law, there is one important distinction between chametz and kitniyot. During Passover, it is forbidden to even have chametz in one's possession (hence the custom of "selling chametz"). Whereas it is permitted to own kitniyot during Passover and even to use it - not for eating - but for things like baby powder which contains cornstarch. Similarly, someone who is sick is allowed to take medicine containing kitniyot.

What about derivatives of kitniyot - e.g. corn oil, peanut oil, etc? This is a difference of opinion. Many will use kitniyot-based oils on Passover, while others are strict and only use olive or walnut oil.

Finally, there is one product called "quinoa" (pronounced "ken-wah" or "kin-o-ah") that is permitted on Passover even for Ashkenazim. Although it resembles a grain, it is technically a grass, and was never included in the prohibition against kitniyot. It is prepared like rice and has a very high protein content. (It's excellent in "cholent" stew!) In the United States and elsewhere, mainstream kosher supervision agencies certify it "Kosher for Passover" -- look for the label.

Interestingly, the Sefardi Jewish community does not have a prohibition against kitniyot. This creates the strange situation, for example, where one family could be eating rice on Passover - when their neighbors will not. So am I going to guess here that you are Ashkenazi and your wife is Sefardi. Am I right?

Yahrtzeit of Rabbi Moses ben Nachman (1194-1270), known as Nachmanides, and by the acronym of his name, Ramban. Born in Spain, he was a physician by trade, but was best-known for authoring brilliant commentaries on the Bible, Talmud, and philosophy. In 1263, King James of Spain authorized a disputation (religious debate) between Nachmanides and a Jewish convert to Christianity, Pablo Christiani. Nachmanides reluctantly agreed to take part, only after being assured by the king that he would have full freedom of expression. Nachmanides won the debate, which earned the king's respect and a prize of 300 gold coins. But this incensed the Church: Nachmanides was charged with blasphemy and he was forced to flee Spain. So at age 72, Nachmanides moved to Jerusalem. He was struck by the desolation in the Holy City -- there were so few Jews that he could not even find a minyan to pray. Nachmanides immediately set about rebuilding the Jewish community. The Ramban Synagogue stands today in Jerusalem's Old City, a living testimony to his efforts.

It's easy to be intimidated by mean people. See through their mask. Underneath is an insecure and unhappy person. They are alienated from others because they are alienated from themselves.

Have compassion for them. Not pity, not condemning, not fear, but compassion. Feel for their suffering. Identify with their core humanity. You might be able to influence them for the good. You might not. Either way your compassion frees you from their destructiveness. And if you would like to help them change, compassion gives you a chance to succeed.

It is the nature of a person to be influenced by his fellows and comrades (Rambam, Hil. De'os 6:1).

We can never escape the influence of our environment. Our life-style impacts upon us and, as if by osmosis, penetrates our skin and becomes part of us.

Our environment today is thoroughly computerized. Computer intelligence is no longer a science-fiction fantasy, but an everyday occurrence. Some computers can even carry out complete interviews. The computer asks questions, receives answers, interprets these answers, and uses its newly acquired information to ask new questions.

Still, while computers may be able to think, they cannot feel. The uniqueness of human beings is therefore no longer in their intellect, but in their emotions.

We must be extremely careful not to allow ourselves to become human computers that are devoid of feelings. Our culture is in danger of losing this essential aspect of humanity, remaining only with intellect. Because we communicate so much with unfeeling computers, we are in danger of becoming disconnected from our own feelings and oblivious to the feelings of others.

As we check in at our jobs, and the computer on our desk greets us with, "Good morning, Mr. Smith. Today is Wednesday, and here is the agenda for today," let us remember that this machine may indeed be brilliant, but it cannot laugh or cry. It cannot be happy if we succeed, or sad if we fail.

Today I shall...

try to remain a human being in every way - by keeping in touch with my own feelings and being sensitive to the feelings of others.

With stories and insights,
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